Team CLER
by MiPseudonym
Summary: Team Clear is home to four of the least transparent people in Remnant. Starting two years before team RWBY meets at Beacon, team CLER tries at friendship, fighting, and their pasts.


**Clara**

Clara struggled to keep her eyes open in the dry air of Vacuo's desert.

They called it the Badlands in the other kingdoms. In Atlas, Vale, and Mistral, the waste was renowned for its extreme heat and vicious wildlife. It was a place for the outlaws and runaways. A place with no promise and no future, where you had to sleep with one eye open, or risk being killed or carried away. But that seemed a bit exaggerated to Clara, if anything, the real danger was boredom. You could travel for days and see nothing but a sandy horizon. Even the creatures of Grimm were few and far between in the desert.

' _And why wouldn't they be? There's no one out here.'_ The irony of that made her smile, ' _The more we make, the more they take.'_

The massacre at Mountain Glenn was proof enough of that. It seemed that whenever mankind innovated or expanded their bounds, they were toppled over by the Grimm. Which was what made life in the Badlands so dull. Everyone out here knew what they were, no one tried to be any more or any less.

' _Survival is what matters'_ Clara knew enough outsiders to have heard the tales. Tales of warriors in ponchos and floppy hats who set out to tame the savage Badlands. Part of her like those stories, they made her feel more rugged and daring. But the reality was disappointing. If you knew the right paths to take, you could avoid the worst of the wild life, then all you would need to worry about was finding water, of course there was none. At that point, you'd fall to the ground until the sand swallowed you. A deadly outcome, but avoidable if you had the lien to buy passage via a caravan.

' _It's just sand, somehow the most dangerous place in Remnant was just a pile of sand.'_ The thought wasn't exactly a revelation, Vacuo had been home to Clara for as long as she could remember. And her profession required that she spend much of her time in the Badlands, as it connected Shade Academy to Vale in the East.

Guarding caravans could be deadly, but if you were experienced and patient, you could make decent money off of it. Clara had been protecting caravans for three years now, and she was confident that she had built up some experience.

' _Now all I need is the patience'_ But things had worked out so far, she was rash, but knew the Badlands like the back of her hand. Clara knew it enough that she had actually gained a bit of a reputation amongst traders. Most jobs were simple one way trips, and she had crossed the Badlands half a hundred times.

This particular job was something different though, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something going on.

' _The Westerman Trade Company must be new to Vacuo.'_ Clara though as she tried to work out what made her feel so uneasy. ' _I've never heard of them before'_

It was not uncommon for caravan leaders to be evasive in the nature of their cargo. It was a safety precaution to protect their goods, but Westerman Trade Company had exercised a suspicious amount of caution when they approached Easton about the job. The memory gave Clara a tinge of annoyment. An anonymous message had been sent to Easton's scroll, informing him of a protection job that payed an unheard of amount of lien.

That was the first red flag. Usually when companies wanted to hire protection, they would go to a message board or use a proxy recruiting agency. ' _I've only had a company approach me directly once or twice'_ Clara pondered confusedly,

' _So why would Westerland go to such lengths to single Easton out?'_ Clara liked Easton, he was her friend and business partner for the last year. But she had still been doing this three times longer than him, she was the face of their operation and it was her who negotiated with clients.

' _Easton is a better fighter than me'_ it pained her to admit it, but it was true. The Faunus boy was slender, but undoubtedly strong. ' _Anyone who fights with their bare fists is an idiot. I'd choose to be smart over strong any day'_ She tried and failed to reassure herself.

Still, she didn't see how Westerman Trade could know that, or how it even applied. ' _Not to diminish Easton's role in things, but protecting caravans 75% knowing where to go, and 25% fighting.'_ And that was where Clara shined. She was strong and fast for sure, but combat didn't interest her half as much as building did. The past 17 years, she had been carving paths out of Vacuo: Which way was the safest? Which way was the fastest? Which had the most scrap along the way? She new it all, and she was more than capable of defending herself.

Clara looked down at the bandoleer that stretched the length of her torso, it had pouches bursting with fuses, cogs, screwdrivers, and bolts. She had everything she needed to build her way out of any fight. The quadcopter sitting next to her was testament to that. The drone was bigger than most, with the four rotors set three feet apart from each other, arranged in a square formation. The blades were angled slightly away from the center of the machine, to avoid them colliding with one another.

' _Built from scrap'_ Clara thought proudly. That was mostly true, the light machine gun mounted under the chassis was a courtesy of a gang of bandits that had attacked her on the Northern Pass.

The memory made her heart sink. "Four years" she whispered to the night sky, "How have I made it these four years without you?" She clenched her fist and looked to the horizon for an answer.

A burst of orange light was rising to split where the sand met the sky. If it was a sign, she didn't know what it meant. ' _The sun rises everyday idiot'_ Clara allowed herself a sad grin and rubbed her eyes before the tears could fall.

When her eyes fell away from her face she spotted three dots in the distance. Only made visible by their silhouettes against the sun. They were flying towards her, and with them, they brought a low hum. Which was what Clara could only assume to be bad luck.

 **Easton**

Easton enjoyed the sound that the caravans made. "Caravans" he giggled to himself. ' _It's not a caravan, there's only one vehicle'_ The reason for calling it something different than it really was confused him. Clara and Easton had essentially been hired to protect one big land barge.

There were others there too, but Clara and him had been the only freelancers. "The other guards look like they're part of some private military," he remembered her saying. Easton had no clue though, he was new to this, but he trusted Clara. She was good at that stuff.

' _She's good at everything...'_ Even though Easton was a year older than Clara, he relied on her for a lot of things. ' _But it's not one sided'_ He reassured himself, ' _She pretends to get annoyed, but I know she's happy that I'm here.'_ Easton wasn't so sure though, Clara had to jump through a lot of hoops to help him to this point. ' _What happens when she's had enough of me?'_

He made a note in his journal, mouthing the words as he wrote them, "Make Clara whole." as he finished, he slid the notebook back into his duffle bag and rose from his sleeping cot. It would be his turn to take watch soon, and he didn't want to make Clara wait.

Their sleeping quarters had been small, there was a lamp, a locker, and a cot.

' _Strange'_

Easton looked around the room, as he was realizing it for the first time.

' _There was only one locker and one cot?'_ Normally Clara and Easton would bunk in engine rooms, corridors, and anywhere they could find. Most caravans companies had land barges made for completely industrial purposes, so there weren't any extra crew quarters intended for hired help.

' _If they went through the trouble of privately contacting us and giving us our own room, why did they only have one of everything?'_ It wasn't the first thing to puzzle him about this job, ' _Did they only plan for one of us to come?'_ He dismissed the train of thought, It was distracting him, and he would need to keep his wits about him.

Easton turned the valve that was fixed to the door of their cabin, upon swinging open the door, he took the narrow corridor left and up a flight of stairs. At the top he locked eyes with a human male who looked to be in his thirties, black pants, black vest, black beret. Easton noted the attire, along with the assault rifle resting in the man's hands.

' _Since when do they need people guarding the inside? Shouldn't he be on lookout?'_

Easton passed by the guard, but as he walked further, he could feel the man's eyes on the back of his head.

"Scared of a faunus?" He was tempted to shout back at the man. But he thought better of it. ' _Clara would've done it without hesitating'_ Easton thought. The girl wasn't a faunus herself, but he could tell that she had a soft spot for them. Regardless of race, he knew Clara would defend her friends.

The narrow hallway continued into a recreation room, Easton would have to pass through it to get to the hatch where Clara was.

As he set foot in the Rec room, he was greeted with unsettling glares. A man and a woman sat playing cards silently, two more sat on metal barstools with guns on their laps. The fifth was the worse, a woman who must've been in her forties leaned in a corner closest to where he needed to go. With a long knife in hand, she looked Easton up and down, and grunted, then flipped it into the air and caught it again.

' _I need to leave'_ the faunus' mind was racing. Nobody had made a move, but he could sense something coming. His eyes darted left to right, looking for any sort of advantage.

' _5 humans. Assault rifles close in hand. No huntsmen…'_ Easton hoped that the last part was true. He could take more than most people in a fight, but a huntsman? He decided that he'd rather not find out.

A distant creaking noise broke his concentration. ' _That's Clara.'_ Easton weighed the situation.

The hatch that lead to the roof-where Clara took guard-was down a corridor on the other side of the Rec room. Easton would have to cross all four guards and the scary lady to get there.

' _And then what? Are we going to fight the entire crew?'_

Instead, Easton took a deep breath, and put his hands in his pockets. He walked slowly, and made no sudden movements as he worked his way through all of the guards, being careful not to look any of them in the face.

Easton let out his breath when he made it to the other side of the room and down the hall a few meters. Just in time to spot Clara sliding down the ladder that lead to the exterior of the barge.

"We need to move," She said, clearly out of breath. Easton cut her off before she could continue, "Shhh, be quiet, we need to get out of here." He grabbed her arm and tried to lead her further down the hall.

Clara pulled back, "That's what I'm saying! We've got company, come on, let's go!"

' _Too loud.'_ Easton thought, all too late.

He looked back as the lady with the knife stirred from her corner, and poked her head in the hallway. "Company?" the woman barked in an authoritative tone.

"There are three airships coming our way" Clara shot back at the lady, "They'll be here any minute."

The woman sheathed her blade in exchange for the assault rifle that had been propped next to her. "Well let's go get em'." She called back to the soldiers in the Rec room. As they were assembling, Clara looked to Easton, "What's wrong?" she whispered.

He pulled her off to the side. "Something is up" he confided, "You were the first to say that there was something wrong with this job, and you were right."

"Wha-" Clara started, but Easton cut her off again, "Why are we the only freelancers here? Those dicks with the berets wanted to bite my head off a second ago." His hushed ranting continued, "You said there were airships? Who has airships in the Badlands? Bandits? Grimm?"

Easton thought he could see a flash of fear cross her face, but as soon as it had appeared, it was gone. Clara bit her lip and thought for a moment.

When she finally opened her mouth, she said, "Whoever it is, we don't want any part of them." "So we run?" Easton asked. "Run where? Besides, I've never broken a contract before, and I'm not doing it now." Clara replied confidently.

"You just said that we didn't want any part of them." Easton said with growing frustration. "I'm not running, we can leave when the job is done" Clara told him, her voice growing louder. He shushed her again, "Clara you can't jus-"

Now it was her turn to cut him off, "You trust me Easton?"

He did, ' _I trust you.'_

Instead, all he could manage to stammer out was an, "I guess..."

Clara flashed a wicked grin and pulled out a wheellock pistol. "Let's do it then."


End file.
